


Red and Blue

by MisakiSachio



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21133064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakiSachio/pseuds/MisakiSachio
Summary: Mickey really fucking hates Red.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,  
I am sorry for any grammar errors. I have no Beta and English is my secondary language. So, I am using this platform as one of the means to get better, Hope you will enjoy my work. And please be patient with me.

He hated Red.

Red is the colour he remembers seeing as first, but also most often. Red in the lipstick on his mother’s lips stretched into a gentle smile, full of love. The scar on his older brother’s face, from where he allegedly fell, but Mickey knew that it had to be from one of his drug runs gone bad. The plushie ladybug he stole for his baby sister, the only person he cares about. The colour of her eyes when they are told that their mother is gone forever. The most blinding is the Red in the ugly face of his drunk father, angry at everyone around him, especially his children, prepared to hurt them again. The face he detests from the depths of his soul and hopes to one day spit into it, with the knowledge that this terrible man will never get to hurt him again.

He hates it; it’s a reminder of his bad childhood, his pain, his anger. So, when Red appears before him, in the form of a tall smug redhead, with a cocky grin permanently plastered on his stupid face, he is mad. He is so mad, and he wants to get rid of the Red that haunts him in his sleep. The moment he is told that this Red hurt his baby sister, he is out for his blood. Mickey knew that if the little fucker were even a little slower, he would leave that small store and be shipped straight to jail, for he knew that he would kill the Red. But he was fast and always cautious, so Mickey never got a chance to make this Red go away. But this Red was also stupid, that is the only explanation he can come up with, because why else would he come into Mikey’s room with iron tire to beat the crap out of him, and get back the gun he stole from the crappy little store, as a revenge for not getting chance to kill the Red. He does not understand this Red, why is he here? Why is he looking at him like this? And why does this Red make Mickey feel so good? Safe? 

Mickey is scared of Red.

Mickey is scared of Red because he knows that where Red is, pain immediately follows. He does not want to get close to this particular Red, too scared, but he is not given a chance, for his traitorous heart longs to be near this Red all the fucking time. So, he allows himself to get close, still waiting for the pain to come. And come, it does. Not in the way of fists, broken bones, and bruises that do not disappear for weeks. No, this time, pain comes in the form of mental disorder and the feeling of helplessness when the one you care about is whisked away, and kept away from you, because they are able to help your Red, but you are not good enough for him. Pain comes in the form of being left alone at the Mexican border, feeling betrayed, and not knowing whether you will see your Red ever again. Its the feeling of a broken heart.

Mickey loves Red.

Micky learns to love Red because it does not bring only pain and sorrow. It can also bring love, home, and smiles. All of this, Mickey’s anxiety, hatred, fear, love, and soul, conveniently compressed into a tall redhead that becomes the only Red he ever wants to be near. His Red.


	2. Blue

He really hated Blue.

He hated it because it was the colour he saw first. The colour of his mother’s beautiful eyes, watching him in wonder and love. Blue is a reminder of happier days when nothing didn’t hurt him, and nobody tried to take away his happiness days when he had a real family. When everyone didn’t forget him, loved him and dotted on his because he was the youngest, before his mother got really sick, had more and more children, so fucking man of them, even though she knew there was no way she would be able to take care of them. Hell, she was not able to take care of herself for the longest time. Always either knocked up again or high of anything she could get her hands on. Another drug one of those drunks got her. To make her willing to go to their bed. Breaking hearts of those around her. 

He hated blue because it was the colour of his father. The colour of his veins, so visible and weak because he didn’t eat properly. Why? So he could get fucking wasted. They were poor and couldn’t afford much, food included, and too many mouths to feed. I hate him. Why is he like this? Why is he not the father, me, and my siblings deserve? Because of her. Because our mother broke him down one too many times. He was blue from all the alcohol in his system, the alcohol he drank every day and night to forget them all to forget his own family and get away from the remainder of his sick, cheating wife.

Blue was the colour of his sister’s bruises and scrapes from when she worked multiple jobs just to keep her siblings alive, for a little bit longer and as happy as possible in this shit hole of a town. She was nine at the time. His brother was covered in Blue because he knew he had to provide for the family, hs brother knew he needed to get them some money, in any way possible. So he did. He broke the law, hung with the wrong crowd, got into fights, and risked his life. 

He was scared of blue.

Blue was the colour that he saw last before his mother slit her wrists on thanksgiving after they all got that treacherous hope in their hearts. Hope that said everything will get better. We are safe now. It was a lie — the colour that took away their father, away to the full bottle of another slow killer. Blue was something his sister hid behind horrible make-up and fake smiles before she went and tried to help their younger brother to get away from the Blue of police uniform. It was the colour in a little bottle of pills he once found in his mother's pocket when he was searching for and hiding away any sharp objects. In the eyes of his little sister, when their mother left again.

He was scared of Blue, because it came after him in the form of a small, cold-hearted thug, with ugly tattoos on his knuckles, with an intention to kill him, for something he didn’t even do. Ian knew that this Blue was dangerous. This Blue was looking for him, to beat him, hurt him. Blue was the colour he stared into when he came to take the fucking gun back. Blue made his feel so scared, but soo good and safe at the same time. Blue fucking scared him.

Blue was in ink on the application form. The piece of paper that, in a sense, trapped him into a life of danger and service, a life he wanted. He thought that this life would get him away from Blue. Blue has no place in the Army. He was wrong. Blue follows him with every step he takes.

He loved Blue.

He loved Blue because he loved Ian even though he hurt Blue so fucking much, Blue was there. Always at his side, helping, protecting, loving. Blue was next to him through his bipolar disorder through the highs and lows, cheating a break-up. Ian loves his Blue, and he swore to himself that he would spend the rest of his life to make sure Blue is happy and safe. That Blues always knows he is loved and cherished. Ian knows he has a lot of shit to make up for, but even if it will take the whole fucking eternity, he will do precisely that. He will love and protect his Blue. Ian will commit, and no one will stop him. And he will start today.

“I will do everything I can to make you happy, Mick,” Says Ian through a lump in his throat and tears streaming down his face. His heart beating loud and fast his chest. He lowers himself down onto his knee and takes out the ring he bought a few months ago.

“Will you marry me?”

He really fucking loves Blue.


End file.
